


dive into the new world

by krucxa



Series: wasteland, baby! [2]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: ...i guess, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, M/M, Reunions, choo choo it's the pain train, if u haven't read the first fic this may not make much sense to u, no beta we die like men, youngjo and hwanwoong too kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25260049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krucxa/pseuds/krucxa
Summary: "No matter who youthinkyou see," he says it slowly, making sure that Keonhee knows he's being serious. He holds Keonhee's gaze, because above all, he needs to be certain that he got his point across, "donotget closer."
Relationships: Lee Keonhee/Son Dongju | Xion
Series: wasteland, baby! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830019
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	dive into the new world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [promise_mp3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/promise_mp3/gifts).



> here u go kaś, another lil gift for u!!  
> the title is from onf's new world because i'm committed to the aesthetic apparently
> 
> warnings?  
>  some blood (...though the emotional injuries are greater than any physical ones here) + hints at depression?

"What happened?" Keonhee asks; there's obvious worry in his voice, and hearing it makes Dongju feel guilty, so ridiculously guilty. He can't bring himself to meet Keonhee's eye, so he peers down instead, as if there's something irresistibly interesting about the tiles under their feet.

They've been hiding at this place for the past few days, and they might possibly stay for a little longer; it's nice, well, as nice as it could get after the End; definitely safer than some of the buildings Dongju deemed as his temporary shelter before, and Keonhee even went as far as to sweep the floor yesterday—"might as well," he'd said, "if we're to get comfortable here for a while"—so it's a welcome change, a nice and clean tile floor to look at. Very interesting indeed. Studying it so closely is definitely not an excuse for Dongju to stall replying.

But Keonhee's still waiting, and Dongju can practically _feel_ the worry radiating off his body, so after a moment, he nibbles on his lip, and then he shrugs.

He doesn't want to talk about it just yet.

So shrugging is, really, the only thing he can do right now. His throat feels tight, and he's aware of the way he looks right now, or at least he thinks he does, he didn't actually get the chance to see himself in the mirror before running into Keonhee. But there are scratches on the heels of his palms, mud splattered all over the jacket he's wearing and at this point, he doesn't even want to know how his face looks—it can't be any better than the rest. Not when he wipes his cheek and his fingers come off smeared with what looks suspiciously like blood.

Fortunately Keonhee doesn't prod further; for now, at least. He's probably too worried to do so right away, but Dongju knows that he'll have to explain what happened eventually.

Wordlessly, Keonhee wraps his fingers around Dongju's wrist and pulls him into the living room, or at least what's left of it. There's an awfully worn out couch smack dab in the middle of it, and Dongju wrinkled his nose when he first saw it, but beggars can't be choosers so he takes what he can get. Now, Keonhee pushes at his shoulders lightly, as if careful not to hurt him any further, so he sits on the plush seat. It's a bit unnecessary, he thinks—he always thought that Keonhee doesn't have the heart to seriously hurt anyone—but he appreciates the effort.

"Stay here," is all Keonhee says before scurrying off, and Dongju is too tired, and confused, to do anything but listen.

As he waits, he lets his eyes roam the room, before pausing on the window. Despite everything, it's still here, not a single scratch on its surface. He's so used to seeing broken glass in nearly every window he passes. The sight of it still intact is almost enough to fool him into thinking that it's all just a cruel dream, that the world hasn't met its end.

So he closes his eyes.

It's pouring outside, already started while he was making his way back, but fortunately by the time he was close enough to his destination so he didn't get fully drenched. He focuses on the sound of it now, how the droplets hit the glass in such an angry way. Dongju doesn't remember the last time it barely even drizzled. Lately, it feels like every time it rains, it's always a heavy storm.

The first few weeks after the End, the weather used to be almost unbearably hot, before the day finally became as cold as the night. If Dongju holds Keonhee's hand, he can still feel the familiar warmth that's so hard to come by these days. So far, he thinks they've made the right choice; if not for that, if Dongju walked away that night, if he chose to stay alone and act as if they haven't met again… he might have given up by now.

He's glad that he didn't.

It doesn't take much longer before Keonhee comes back, the quiet, yet distinct, sound of heavy boots against the tile floor announcing his arrival. Slowly, Dongju opens his eyes again—and it feels like such a feat—before glancing at the other, taking in the bowl clutched tightly in his hands, the cloth thrown over his arm; it looks relatively clean, compared to what he's used to. He doesn't know how long Keonhee would have to look for it, or when he managed to wash it.

He stares at the bowl pointedly, and as Keonhee comes over to the couch, he notices the glare and pauses.

"It's rainwater," he explains, and Dongju nods. That's as clean as they could get.

When Keonhee sits down, it's as far away as the couch allows. Maybe he's trying to be mindful of Dongju's space, he guesses, but if that's it then again, it's kind of pointless; he can't really help from such a distance. It doesn't even take a minute before Keonhee seems to realize that too.

Placing the bowl on his lap, Keonhee glances at the empty space between them, looking conflicted. He takes hold of the cloth and dips it in the water, then gestures for Dongju to come closer, which the latter does after just a moment, tentatively shifting to where Keonhee's sitting on the opposite side of the couch. There's blood, mixed with dirt and sweat, covering the side of his face and Keonhee dabs at it with gentle fingers, as if applying any more pressure would hurt.

Dongju is just relieved to feel less dirty.

It takes some time until his face is finally back to being somewhat clean. Keonhee even goes as far as washing his neck and palms as well, wincing at the sight of blood on Dongju's fingers, the scratches scattered on his skin. When he's finally done, he drops the cloth into the rainwater that's in a way worse state now, and wipes his hands before brushing Dongju's fridge away. It's sticky with sweat; Keonhee makes a face.

"You should wash your hair, too," he says, and Dongju almost laughs. Later, he thinks. When he feels less like shit.

"Do you still want to know?"

Keonhee pauses midway standing up. He blinks, then glances at Dongju, tilting his head in a silent question, so Dongju adds, "what happened. Do you still want to know what happened?"

He watches as Keonhee's eyes widen before he sinks down on the couch again. It's a good thing that he set the bowl on the ground a moment ago, otherwise all this cleaning would go to waste.

When Keonhee nods, Dongju speaks up; his voice drops down, not quite a whisper, but still quieter than what could be considered the norm. Instead of skirting around the topic, he decides to be blunt, "I thought I saw Dongmyeong."

Keonhee's mouth drops open, but before he could make any loud, baffled noises, Dongju places his finger under the boy's chin and moves it up until it closes again, "I was wrong, obviously, but... I think it was actually one of the Stalkers," he drops his gaze to the ground, so he doesn't even see Keonhee's reaction. He doesn't want to see the same fear he felt in that moment now mirrored in the other's eyes, "I… I've never been this close to one of them before."

Keonhee is almost alarmingly quiet, after that. The silence stretches out, and Dongju considers looking up, checking if Keonhee is even still there, but then he murmurs, "Stalkers… you mean, those shadow people, right?"

Confused, Dongju raises his head.

"Is that what you call them?"

He sees the moment Keonhee grows defensive, his eyebrows furrowing. The face he's making could only be described as a pout, but Dongju doesn't point it out, he knows that Keonhee's genuinely upset, "I was all alone, Dongju. Do you really think I've heard anyone give these things a name?"

This time, when Dongju feels guilty, it's for an entirely different reason. He winces, "...sorry."

All Keonhee does in reply is nod, but that's enough. At least his apology was accepted.

"How did _you_ start calling them… that, then?" Keonhee asks after a moment, and Dongju doesn't have to think too much because he remembers that moment well. It was the first time he saw working electricity after the End, "I heard it on the radio—found it in some survivor's base, probably, but when I got there, it was already empty. Either they moved, or they…"

He doesn't finish, doesn't need to. They both know what he was going to say anyway.

Keonhee brings his legs up to his chest. He's resting with dirty shoes on the couch, and if the world was still normal, Dongju would have chided him for doing so. But it doesn't really matter anymore.

"Compared to them, we're either _really_ lucky, or _extremely_ cursed," Keonhee muses. Sounds about right.

"Why not both?"

The words only earn Dongju a shrug from the other, but he lets Keonhee drop the topic. He doesn't see the point in wondering about it more than strictly necessary; all it would result in is souring their moods even further.

"You know what's funny?" Dongju speaks up, just to break the silence. Keonhee glances at him, hums in a way that prompts him to continue, "the only reason I got so close to that Stalker was because I mistook it for my brother. Is that what they do? Change their appearance to get you all emotional and an easy prey? Or was _I_ just seeing things, for reasons unrelated to the _thing_ in question?"

He lets the question hang in the air between them, before he turns to fully face Keonhee. He waits for the other to notice that he's waiting, and when Keonhee meets his gaze, he's got this familiar expression on his face. The confused pout. It reminds Dongju of the days before the End, before they drifted away. It's kind of funny—how so much has changed around them, _about_ them, even, yet his feelings for Keonhee remained the same.

"No matter who you _think_ you see," he says it slowly, making sure that Keonhee knows he's being serious. He holds Keonhee's gaze, because above all, he needs to be certain that he got his point across, "do _not_ get closer. Don't try to talk to them. Unless they speak first—Stalkers are deadly silent, right? If the person speaks, then it's safe, but in any other case, _don't_. Can you promise me that?"

Keonhee blinks. Even though Dongju knows that there's no way Keonhee hadn't interacted with one of them before, that for sure he's got some experience with whatever is out there, he needs to hear the answer, even if just for his own peace of mind. Keonhee is still processing Dongju's words, and Dongju lets him take as much time as he needs before he finally nods.

"Yes. I promise."

With that, Dongju leans closer, gently tugging at Keonhee's arms. They don't hug that often, not after their reunion, but he's well aware that they both need it right now, so he rests his head on Keonhee's shoulder, revelling in the warmth of someone by his side.

"Thank you," he says, and his voice comes out muffled this time, but he knows that Keonhee hears him because the other only hugs him a bit tighter then.

  


◑

  


It takes a while, but eventually, it stops raining. It ends just as rapidly as it started, and Dongju wrinkles his nose when he sees it happen. He wants to open the window, just a peek, just to check if it still smells of fresh rain like it used to before the End or if the scent somehow changed. But he knows that even if they think they're alone, there's always a chance of Stalkers—or something else?—hearing them, and he doesn't consider simply satisfying his curiosity worth the risk.

Instead, he turns his focus to the other side of the room, where Keonhee's sitting by the table, shuffling through what Dongju assumes is a stack of photographs.

Keonhee seems to notice him staring, because he glances up, meeting Dongju's gaze immediately. He picks up one of the pictures, waving it in Dongju's direction in a manner that's probably supposed to tell him _something_ but Dongju only stares blankly back at him. The paper wobbles with the motion, and the sound kind of bothers him, but he doesn't comment on it, instead asking, "where did you find that?"

In response, Keonhee points behind his back at a bookshelf that's only barely holding up still. There's something about the way that he gazes at these pictures that Dongju can't quite read.

"Whoever lived here before the End must've had an interesting life," he comments, sliding another photograph out from the pile before scrutinizing whatever it displays.

Dongju raises an eyebrow, but even though he's curious, he doesn't move from his spot. He'd rather stay by the window, for now, "well, they also had a good eye for choosing a place to live in. Like, the whole apocalypse aside, this is a really nice house. We could come back here every now and then."

What he wants to say is _we could stay here_ , but they both know that staying in one place for too long isn't a good idea—it would be like straight up asking for trouble. When Keonhee looks at him just then it's not that hard to say that he's heavily considering the words, though he's mostly worried. He's always so worried. It almost makes _Dongju_ worried, in some weird, second-hand emotional way. But then, it's better to be careful than dead, so it's not like Dongju can complain.

Staying here for a couple days longer than they usually do was an easy choice, sure. But coming back? That's a whole different thing. There's no way to truly know if it would be safe, so the question is, _can_ they risk it? They're not the _only_ survivors wandering the Earth, even if it feels like it so often. Ha, there are things more dangerous than people who could, potentially, claim this house as its property. If they can barely trust their eyes, they can't really trust a place like this either.

In the end, Dongju deems, they'll just have to see how things play out.

With that, he lets his thoughts stray.

There's no denying that the past—was it two weeks?—that they've spent together have been far more enjoyable than the time before they reunited; every now and then, whenever Keonhee noticed a change in Dongju's mood, he'd distract him from the negative thoughts, and Dongju would do the same for him. They'd look out for each other while scouting the streets and make each other laugh in the safety of their shelter. Although there have been a few awkward moments, Dongju guesses that was unavoidable. It's been years, after all—it's a bit bizarre, looking at Keonhee _now_. Before, when he'd thought of Keonhee, in his mind, he was a friend, a crush. The guy who would jump out of his skin at the cheapest jumpscares and whom Dongju would pester to carry him when he'd felt too lazy to walk on his own. Comparing the fond memory of the Keonhee he used to know, to the Keonhee that's sitting in the same room, the same place as him? It feels… weird, in a way. It's still the same person that he used to be friends with, but at the same time, it's not. Dongju has no idea how life treated Keonhee after they drifted apart. Was he lucky? Happy? Was it easy for him to forget Dongju, or did he still think of him sometimes?

Would it be selfish of Dongju to say he wishes that Keonhee _did_ miss him?

It's not like he can outright ask, but the fact that Keonhee is right here, that means he can still get some of his answers. Just… not to the _one_ question he wants to state the most.

He clears his throat.

"So… how have you been, after," he pauses, unsure if he should say it out loud or not, "...you know."

Keonhee's eyes snap up. Even though Dongju just interrupted him, he seems to get what exactly Dongju might be referencing, "you mean, after we stopped talking?"

Dongju purses his lips, but then he nods.

He doesn't expect Keonhee to look away, but the next thing Dongju knows, his gaze wanders around the room, drifting towards the wall. Maybe he's uncomfortable. Maybe Dongju shouldn't have asked—but in that case, wouldn't Keonhee just deflect the question? The fact that he speaks up is probably a good sign.

"It was hard. Not, like, the worst it could be, I guess, but it could have been way better too, you know?" and Dongju _does_ know, he gets the feeling unfortunately well, so he nods, and that's all it takes for Keonhee to go on, "it felt like everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. And I don't even mean the major things, but like, even the seemingly unimportant stuff. It was hard to focus on the brighter side of things when it honestly felt as if the universe was just laughing at me. And when everything finally fell into place, when I thought that I found what I was looking for? The world ended."

Dongju freezes.

They haven't talked about the End before—not directly. They've mentioned it in passing, sure, but nothing more than that. He doesn't know how Keonhee survived, nor does Keonhee know about the guilt that Dongju still feels whenever he remembers that time, when he remembers the possibilities, remembers what could have been.

Maybe this is their chance to get some things off their chests.

Keonhee takes a deep breath before continuing, "that day, I didn't even know what happened, at first. The Apocalypse occured, and for the next few _hours_ I was none the wiser, like it was some cruel joke. Then when I stepped outside, suddenly the world was in ruins, and there wasn't a single person around," Dongju watches as his shoulders sag, Keonhee's gaze seemingly stuck on the floor now, but it's as if he's not even aware of what he's looking at; like he's staring somewhere far ahead instead, "...I was terrified."

Terrified. Yeah, Dongju could relate. Though, in his case, he was more angry, at first—whether angry at the world, or angry at himself, he wasn't even sure.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he murmurs, then tears his eyes away from Keonhee, focusing on the window by his side instead. It's easier to talk like this, makes him feel less anxious, "I didn't really get to witness it either, not the start of it, at least. You could say I was lucky, since I only got outside after the worst of it… it didn't _feel_ lucky, though."

It's slowly growing darker outside; the sun has already set, sometime during their conversation, and Dongju can even see the first few stars poking out. It looks so peaceful. If only the outside world was still as safe as it looked.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, and he darts his tongue to wet his lips, "I think, what I regret the most about that day, was my conversation with Dongmyeong. My… last words to him," he pauses, and Keonhee looks at him with visible concern, so he explains further, "I mean, we didn't fight—but we didn't exactly agree either. What I said to him wasn't horrible, no, it's just that… it didn't really make for great parting words. You know what I mean, right?"

Keonhee seems to consider his words for a minute. He makes a sound that sounds vaguely agreeing, "that… makes sense. But I think, unless we all actually knew that the world was gonna end, there are no words that would make for a fitting farewell."

Dongju stares.

It's like his brain is still trying to fully comprehend Keonhee's statement, because he's never really thought of it like this. He'd only felt regretful, he didn't even get the chance to say goodbye, but now that he thinks about it, Keonhee is right—no one really did. The fact doesn't make it hurt any less, though… it does make him feel less guilty.

He licks his lips, "...thanks."

Keonhee smiles at him from the other side of the room. Even from a distance, the gesture feels as warm, "feel any better?"

"Yeah," he admits, dropping his gaze to the ground before meeting Keonhee's eyes again. He makes a point of tilting the corners of his lips upwards, "I do. Thanks to you."

Even if he can't fully put his thoughts into words, can't wholly convey how grateful he is for Keonhee's company in the wasteland they've found themselves in—the least he can do is thank him, and watch as the smile blooms wider; he knows that Keonhee understands. He can tell just from the tone of his voice.

  


◐

  


Three days later, they leave the house—whether _for good_ or not, only time will tell—and as they step outside, Dongju feels a bit bummed. It's ridiculous, he knows; it's just a place they've stayed at for around a week, nothing more than that. But it was a nice change from the ruins, from half-collapsed and unrecognizable buildings. He's going to miss it.

Keonhee seems to sense the way Dongju's mood plummets, because the next thing he knows, Keonhee reaches for his hand. They don't say anything—speaking, in open space, is dangerous. They know that all too well—but words aren't needed when Keonhee squeezes his palm. It's the smallest gesture, but it's comforting enough.

It's still ungodly early. The weather is always cold nowadays, but the cool air that hits his skin somehow still comes as a surprise. An unwelcome surprise, at that. He shivers and shifts closer to Keonhee, almost subconsciously.

There's something nostalgic about watching the sun slowly rise, peeking out from behind a fallen bridge. With Keonhee's hand in his, taking careful steps ahead, keeping an eye out for any sign of danger; Dongju feels so ridiculously emotional. He shakes his head as if that would somehow make these thoughts disappear, and he knows, he knows that he can't afford to be so distracted, not now. So he tries to focus on the empty street ahead.

Dongju isn't sure whether they walk for minutes or for hours; it's not like that's truly important, anyway. He tries to keep up with the routes they take, embed them in his memory in case one day they were to come back to the house from before. He notes the river they pass, the few buildings that seem to stand out more than others, and at one point, Keonhee points out a fire escape they could climb to get a better look of the city from above. It's not that bad of an idea, so they head towards it, and Dongju makes sure to keep his steps light. He hopes they won't make too much noise, and fortunately they manage to get all the way up without alerting anything, or anyone—the street remains as empty as ever, and Dongju holds back a sigh of relief. It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Up on the roof, it seems even colder. He tries not to let it bother him, wrapping his fingers around the sleeve of Keonhee's jacket and tugging him forward, and the boy follows him without any complains.

As he looks over the edge, Keonhee by his side, for just a moment, he feels calm. Maybe even content.

That is, until Keonhee makes a sound—just a little, surprised hum that's barely loud enough for Dongju to hear—and Dongju clasps a hand over his mouth, shooting him a glare. At least Keonhee looks apologetic, but then he points down, to the right, at what's left of some music store that Dongju only recognizes by the logo. There's some movement, and he squints at the sight, before he notices what, exactly, it is.

Two silhouettes. One visibly shorter than the other. Possibly people, unless Dongju is especially unlucky and it's something far from human again.

Either way, they should probably keep their distance.

He glances at Keonhee, tugging at the hoodie he's thrown over his head some time ago, to get his attention. When he speaks, he's careful to keep his voice down, "we have to find another route."

Keonhee's eyebrows furrow, and he tilts his head, a silent _why?_ —Dongju glares back, because isn't it obvious?

"We can't get too close, remember?" he mutters, glancing down at the silhouettes again. The duo just left the store, and they look around the street in a way that Dongju learned to do to keep safe. The thing is, even if they _seem_ human, Dongju can't trust that alone, can't take the risk, "we should probably head back, at least far enough so we don't run into them again—wait, Keonhee, are you listening to me?"

He sees the way Keonhee's eyes widen. The shock on his face looks ridiculous, and in any other situation, Dongju would laugh, but now isn't the time. He shakes Keonhee's shoulder, and the other spares him a glance, looks down again before finally settling his gaze on Dongju, "that's Hwanwoong."

Dongju blinks.

"What?" he murmurs, confused, "don't be ridiculous."

"No, I swear that's him, I mean, look!" Keonhee gestures at the smaller figure, and Dongju stares at it, just to humor the other. But then realization sets in, and he shakes his head, turning to look at the other silhouette. If that's Hwanwoong, then the other is, "Youngjo?"

It can't be. Dongju doesn't think that's possible, because there's no way it could be, right? He faces Keonhee again, taking a step back and tugging at his jacket, a bit harsher than before, "no. No, that can't be them, Keonhee, we've been over this—"

His words die in his throat when he feels a weight settle around his arm. A hand. That doesn't belong to Keonhee. A hand, that pulls him back, turning him around in the process. For a terrifying moment, Dongju's heart seems to stop.

In hindsight, they should have expected this. They didn't keep as quiet as they should have, which was a stupid mistake caused by a sudden flurry of emotions. Someone, or something, was bound to hear them.

Instead of what Dongju was expecting, though, what—or rather, _who_ —he faces isn't actually his upcoming end, but a familiar face.

Overwhelmed, the first thing he notices, and focuses on, is the pair of eyes, widening in shock and the same recognition that Dongju feels. Whatever logical thoughts must've been pushed aside, because his mind is empty, unable to come up with even a single comprehensible sentence. He can't even tell what, exactly, he's feeling; there's too much happening at once, and it leaves him standing frozen, confused, staring at Harin while Harin stares at him. Silent. Still processing the situation.

"Dongju?" is all that eventually leaves the other's lips, and Dongju gets a sense of déjà vu. It reminds him of the time he met Keonhee again, because the way Harin says his name is almost the same as Keonhee did back then—uncertain, like he doesn't really believe what he's seeing, because what are the chances of reuniting with the people you know after so much time, after the literal Apocalypse? It should have been the end, and yet they're still here, the lucky few from the entire population.

He's vaguely aware of Keonhee's touch, his fingers grazing Dongju's palm. He takes Keonhee's hand in his own, intertwining their fingers without much thought; right now, he needs the support.

Harin's gaze travels down to their linked hands, then up at Keonhee. The two don't know each other as well as Dongju knows them both, and Dongju doesn't recall a single time he's actually seen them interact other than a passing greeting, he's not actually sure if they've even met more than a couple times—a friend of a friend makes for an acquaintance, he guesses—but there's still undeniable recognition in Harin's gaze. He can't see Keonhee's expression right now, given the fact that the other is standing right behind him, but he wouldn't be surprised if Keonhee's eyes mirrored it.

While the two stare each other down, Dongju notices another figure, standing a few feet behind Harin, as if frozen in place from shock. Immediately, he shifts his focus on the person, and that's when his breath gets promptly knocked out of his chest.

Both figuratively and literally.

At first, he doesn't even process the sudden warmth engulfing him, but soon enough he raises his arms to reciprocate the hug. He knows his hands are shaking, and he can't bring himself to say anything, but suddenly he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and the past few months worth of guilt feel like nothing compared to the relief that washes over him.

Because right now, he's holding Dongmyeong in his arms. Dongmyeong, who's very much alive, with his hands fisted into Dongju's hoodie, after they haven't seen each other for months on end.

He's alive.

He's alive, and Dongju doesn't have to feel guilty anymore. He's alive, and so is Harin, and probably Hwanwoong and Youngjo as well, and if luck will be on their side, maybe they'll be alright.

And when Keonhee squeezes his palm again, for the first time in a long, long time, Dongju feels truly hopeful.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this!!  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/ddonibell)


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